


Themselves

by Margaery



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rival Sex, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:50:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margaery/pseuds/Margaery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vika doesn't really know what to call this thing she has with Maria, but if Maria keeps doing that thing with her tongue and her fingers, Vika's happy to just call it "amazing". {Pretty much PWP.}</p>
            </blockquote>





	Themselves

Vika doesn’t really know what this is.

She knows what it’s not. They’re not friends. And they’re not anything else - Maria has Grigor, and she has Foo, and that’s fine. It’s fine.

But sometimes, sometimes, one of them calls the other, oblique and casual, _You wanna?_ , and the other says, _Yeah, sure._

She hadn’t expected Maria to call her today.

And yet here they are, in Vika’s bedroom, in Vika’s lovely squishy bed, and Vika has her good leg drawn up to give Maria better access, and Maria is very good at all things, but at this most of all.

Vika shivers and reaches down, stroking Maria’s beautiful hair.

She doesn’t know how Maria’s tongue is so talented at this. It’s never felt right to ask any questions, and besides, they don’t really talk. They’re not _friends_. They’re Maria and Vika, and sometimes this just happens, and…

_oh god_

Maria’s finger is slick as it goes in, but whether that’s with lube or with Vika’s own wetness, Vika doesn’t know. She feels like she’s wet enough to flood the world, with Maria’s tongue flicking so cleverly over her clit, Maria’s finger exploring so expertly, so maddeningly. The building pressure makes her dizzy, and she moans, half in pleasure, half in impatience.

“You want something?” Maria asks, her breath hot, driving Vika almost to distraction. 

Vika can hear the grin in her voice, not quite teasing but not quite mocking either. More satisfied than anything else - as if watching Vika come apart under her mouth and fingers is exactly what she needs after her ignominious tumble out of Wimbledon. 

(Vika tumbled out too, but she’s having problems remembering that at the moment – she’s having problems remembering her own _name_ , as Maria’s finger finds the spot inside her that makes her gasp and arch up, needing friction, needing more.)

“Maria,” she says, hearing the rough pleading edge in her voice.

Maria eases her finger out, and Vika almost sobs at the loss. Her cunt is drenched, she was so nearly there, all she needed was a little more, just a little more…

She reaches a hand down, desperate, but Maria intercepts it, crawls up the bed, pins her hands to the pillows. 

“No,” Maria says, smiling, her hair falling about her face. 

Vika hears her own wordless moan, as she twists, arching her hips up into empty air.

Then Maria is leaning down to kiss her, still smiling, swallowing her moans. 

Vika can taste herself on Maria’s tongue. She tastes tangy, but not unpleasant. There’s also a faint echo of strawberry, but Vika thinks that’s probably from a strawberries and cream indulgence, not from her cunt.

Maria’s breasts are warm against Vika’s own, her skin velvet-smooth; Vika pulls insistently at her wrists until Maria lets go, then runs her hands across the perfect expanse of Maria’s back, pulling her closer, stroking until Maria shivers against her.

It seems like a perfect moment to hook her heels around Maria, rubbing herself upward on Maria’s honey-golden skin. Maria’s still kissing her, the initial slow languorousness having turned more urgent, their tongues tangling together, neither willing to let the other lead. Vika turns her fingertips so her nails will score ever so lightly into Maria’s back, grinning against Maria’s lips as the other woman gasps.

They break apart, just far enough that their eyes don’t cross when they look at each other. Maria’s breathing harder now, and Vika still thrills every time she makes that happen, every time she deconstructs that carefully constructed persona. Here they may not be friends, they may not quite be lovers, but they’re themselves, and that’s something.

“Say please,” Maria demands. 

Vika lets her eyes glitter up at her, even though she knows she’ll give in. She doesn’t really mind saying please, and if it makes Maria get all intense about the eyes and get on about the business of bringing her to her second orgasm, well, Vika’s more than willing to make the trade.

When she doesn’t respond immediately, Maria reaches a hand down, nestling a finger between her lips and rubbing ever so gently at her clit. To Vika, already on a hair trigger, it feels like a thunderclap, and she sucks in a quick shuddering breath, feeling her fingernails bite more deeply into Maria’s skin.

“Say please,” Maria says again, grinning now - not maliciously, just recklessly caught up in the moment.

Vika answers that grin with one of her own, then reaches up to pull Maria back down in a fierce kiss, fast and furious. “Please,” she says against Maria’s lips, then pushes at her shoulders, willing her back down where Vika needs her.

Maria’s laughing a little, but she goes down, and Vika laughs along with her, right until Maria slides a finger back inside and crooks it just so, and Vika’s abruptly falling falling falling.

(Vika still doesn’t really know what this is. But whatever it is, it’s amazing.)


End file.
